


Never Shall We Die

by BirdSpell



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: All I'm saying is, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anachronistic, Gen, Ghosts, Just a typical day at Freddy's really, Mike doesn't know how to deal with these kids, No OSHA compliance, if 1993 can have these animatronics, naturally, then 1993 can have other fun toys too, they're crazy, vengeance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6861742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdSpell/pseuds/BirdSpell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mike discovers that his current job is not only ridiculously dangerous, but also haunted.</p>
<p>Or, Mike discovers the spirits of five murdered children and agrees to help them reap vengeance on their murderer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Week One_

_Third Night_

 

After two days of complete hell, Mike had come to the conclusion that he wasn't getting paid nearly enough for this bullshit. If nothing else, the contract needed a serious overhaul; he'd laughed off the mentions of dismemberment and painful death when he first saw them, but he'd never have taken the job if he'd known about the murderous robots. 

 

“'Think I'm a naked endoskeleton' my ass,” he grumbled, switching on the tablet and doing a quick sweep. Everything was still in place for the moment, Fazbear and his buddies on the stage, the curtain in Pirate's Cove firmly closed, and no sign of Golden Fazbear's poster. “Seen those fuckers walk through the backstage at least a dozen times by now and they haven't reacted to the one in there once. What the fuck is with this place?”

 

The phone rang briefly and he reached out to mute it. “Not this time,” he muttered. Last night he took the call, and nearly got himself murdered in his distraction. He picked up the tablet again. The rabbit had already left the stage; he quickly flipped through the feeds until he found it. “Alright, still got time. What're you up to, you damn fox?” He flipped to the Pirate's Cove feed. The curtain was still closed. “Good. Now, how about you just stay there?”

 

He hadn't realised how good he had it, the first night. It had really only been Bonnie and Chica, and they'd been bad enough. Even still, he'd run out of power in the last few minutes. He'd never hear the Toreador Song the same way again; he was lucky the clock had ticked over to 6 AM in time. But then Foxy had shown up on the next night… Damn, that thing was fast for a hunk of metal. If it weren't for the phone guy warning him to keep an eye on Pirate's Cove, he would've died. He'd barely managed to catch Foxy sprinting down the hall in time to slam the door shut. The damn fox had dropped his power by a good chunk hammering at it. He had to be more careful.

 

Mike flicked on the lights for the left hand door and hissed a curse, staring into the rabbit's soulless eyes. He just about threw himself from his chair in his scramble to reach the door button. “Shit! Give me some warning, you fucking thing!”

 

He continued to mutter curses as he checked on the others. The Pirate's Cove curtain was still closed, Chica was… probably in the kitchen, and Fazbear…

 

…was not on the stage. “Well, shit.” Mile quickly flipped through the feeds. There were two glowing pinpricks of light in one of the party rooms; that would be him, there. Hopefully. He flicked on the lights to make sure Bonnie was gone, then opened the door again. Then he checked his watch. Barely 12:30, and already the rabbit had shown up? Damn. But he still had most of his power. It would be fine. It would be _fine_. 

 

“Da da dum dum dum, da dum dum dum…”

 

Mike groaned, switching back to Pirate's Cove. Sure enough, the curtain was still shut tight, but the notes were emanating through it. “Shut up, will you?”

 

As if the fox could hear him, the singing petered out, and for a split second Mike was sure he saw a reproachful amber eye peering through the curtain. The fabric twitched, as if Foxy had tugged the curtains together again, then went still. Mike scowled at the feed for a moment, then went back to work. 

 

Two hours passed like that, just going between feeds and occasionally banging the doors shut. He was probably pissing the robots off, not letting them get him. Well, fuck them. 

 

Mike turned back to the feeds. Fazbear and Bonnie were hovering near the stage again, for some reason, and Chica was hiding out in the kitchen, if the sound of chewing was any indication. He wondered offhand what robots would eat, in a kitchen or otherwise, then decided not to think about it. That just left Foxy. 

 

He was gone. The curtain was hanging open, and the damn fox was gone. Mike dropped the tablet and lunged for the door. “Shit, shit, shit!” The door slammed shut just as a flash of red came into view.

 

Then there was a metallic _bang_ , as if someone had run headlong into the door, and a very startled, very _human_ yelp, muffled by the steel. “OW!”

 

Mike stood slowly and glanced through the window. He froze. There was a boy sitting in front of the door, shooting it a dirty look and rubbing his head. The damned rabbit was coming down the hall, too. He quickly hit the door button again. “Hey, kid, what're you doing?! Get in here!”

 

The boy frowned nervously, but got to his feet and slunk inside. Mike hit the door again just as Bonnie reached it. “Shit, that was close,” he sighed, turning to examine his guest. The boy looked about thirteen or so, with long red hair tied into a neat ponytail, falling over his right eye. There was a spray of freckles over his nose and cheeks, and his eyes were an almost unnatural amber colour. Maybe he was wearing contacts? “How did you even get in here?”

 

“I fail to see how that's any of your business,” the boy grumbled, edging towards the other door. A Scottish brogue edged his voice. “I'm here.” 

 

“It's my business because I'm the damn night guard!” Mike snapped. The boy stepped back, startled, and he forced himself to calm down. “Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. But… what about your family? Won't they be worried? It's dangerous here at night, you shouldn't be wandering around, even aside from the fact that we're closed.”

 

The boy looked away. “Don't have a family, really,” he mumbled. “Not like you're thinking.” Then, louder, “It's not dangerous for _me_ , anyway. They don't like adults.”

 

Mike stared at him. “…No, they don't,” he agreed. “How did you know-? Never mind. Just… stay here for now, okay? Don't want you wandering off and getting hurt.”

 

“…Fine,” the boy said. “Whatever you say, Mr. Schmidt.”

 

“You know my name?”

 

“Well, of _course_ ,” the boy said, as if it was obvious. He blinked at the night guard. “I-it's on your name tag.”

 

“Okay. Okay.” Mike sighed. “So what's your name, then?”

 

“It's none of your business,” the boy said calmly, turning away. “Bonnie's gone, by the way.”

 

Mike switched on the light, checking for the rabbit's shadow, then opened the door and settled back in his chair. “Fine. If you don't want to tell me who you are, what about contact numbers or something? Someone I can call?” He checked the tablet. Foxy was back in Pirate Cove with the curtain closed, the others scattered throughout the restaurant. “There must be _someone_ who'll be worried about you.”

 

The boy just shrugged. “Not really, no. I'm… not really in contact with anyone with a phone. It's fine, they know where I am.”

 

“So what you're saying is, your family doesn't mind you breaking into a pizzeria in the middle of the night?” Mike asked dubiously. 

 

The boy looked away. “I wouldn't call it _breaking in_ , per se…”

 

“Right.” Mike decided to focus on the tablet, keeping half an eye on the boy now perched on his desk, tapping his fingers soundlessly against the surface. He seemed content to stay there, at least. 

 

A good two or three hours passed before they spoke again. It had been quiet, mostly; Foxy hadn't left Pirate Cove again, and while the others had stopped by every now and then, they hadn't shown much interest. It was almost like they were checking in. 

 

It must have been nearing 5:30 when the boy pushed himself off the desk and straightened his long jacket. “Well, then, Mr. Schmidt, I should be going.”

 

“Hey, wait!” Mike yelped. “The robots will still be active for… half an hour or so. Just stay here until six, okay? I don't want you getting hurt.”

 

The boy chuckled, stepping back towards the door. “Oh, don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow!”

 

Before Mike could respond, he stepped around the corner and disappeared from sight. “…Thanks, though,” he murmured. “For caring.” Then he was gone, as if he'd never been there to begin with. 

 

It wasn't until long after he'd vanished that Mike realised he hadn't been wearing a name tag at all. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Week One_

_Fourth Night_

 

Mike didn't let himself think too much about the strange boy who'd somehow gotten past the murderous animatronics. Hell, he didn't even mention it to his boss; he thought about it, but something stopped him. It was as if the boy's presence was some big secret. He told himself he would say something if it happened again; he couldn't let the boy wander around on his own, no matter how unconcerned he seemed. 

 

So the next night he headed into his office as usual, settled down in his seat, took a deep breath, and waited for the show to start. At midnight on the dot, the phone rang. He reached out to mute it. 

 

“Let it play.”

 

“Wha-?!” Mike spun around so fast he nearly fell out of his chair. The boy from yesterday was leaning against the wall, eyes fixed on the ringing phone. “Kid?! What're you _doing_ here?!”

 

“Let it play,” the boy said again. He didn't move, or even blink, so far as Mike could see. “ _Let it play_.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Mike said quickly, moving his hand away from the phone. 

 

The phone clicked as the call connected. “ _Hello, hello?_ ” came the familiar voice. “ _Hey! Hey, wow, day four. I knew you could do it. Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow_.” A loud banging sounded, like Foxy hammering at the door. Mike frowned; that couldn't be good. “ _It's-It's been a bad night here for me_ ,” the man continued over the banging. “ _Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you-_ ” he paused to clear his throat, _“-uh, when I did. Uh, hey, do me a favour_ ,” he added, as if he'd just thought of something as the banging continued on uninterrupted. “ _Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits… in the back room? I'm gonna try to hold out… until someone checks… Maybe it won't be so bad. Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads… back there_.” The opening notes of the Toreador Song started to play in the background. “ _Oh no_.” A low, rasping moan, like the ones he sometimes heard from Bonnie and Chica. “ _Oh, no_ -”

 

The banging continued for a second or two longer. Then there was a loud, animalistic screech, cut off abruptly, and then nothing but static. 

 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Mike said quietly. “Did- Did they kill him?”

 

“Mm?” The kid blinked, turning to look at him. “Who? Oh, Fritz. No, no, he's fine. It was- was right at six, y'see. He quit the next morning. Shame, really. He was fun.” A faint smile touched his lips. “I liked him.”

 

“You knew him?”

 

“Mm.” The boy boosted himself up onto the desk. “He was your predecessor, you know. Got fired once, but no one else could- could manage it, so they hired him back.” He frowned. “Maybe he got fired twice.”

 

Mike shook his head, quickly checking over the animatronics. “You know a lot about this place, especially for a kid.”

 

“I'm not a kid!” the kid snapped, his accent thickening in his annoyance. “I'm thirteen and a half, that's too old to be a kid!” He sighed, leaning back a bit. “I spend a lot of time here. I bet I know just about everything that took place here in the past… oh, six years or so.”

 

“Do you, now?” Mike asked. “Then do you know about the newspaper clippings that show up sometimes?”

 

“Oh.” The boy's voice went dull and flat. “That. I know a bit.”

 

“And…?”

 

The boy shrugged. “Not much to say, really. June twenty sixth, 1987. Five kids were lured into the back room of the old Freddy Fazbear's location and murdered.” Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and sad. “I'd… rather not talk about it.”

 

Mike shuddered. “Can't blame you. Shit, who could do that to _children_?”

 

“A monster.” There was a dull certainty in the kid's voice. He shook his head. “Then a few days later was the Bite. That was generally… not a good week. For… anyone.”

 

Mike sighed. “What was this… Bite? I haven't heard much other than the name.”

 

“There was a… a birthday party,” the kid said. “A group of bastards tried to pull a… a prank, you see, and… well…” He turned away. “…should've…”

 

“Sorry, uh, what was that last bit?” Mike pulled up the tablet briefly. Freddy was just visible in the shadows around the dining hall and he groaned. “Shit, here comes Fazbear.”

 

“I said, I should've been there,” the boy mumbled. 

 

Mike set down the tablet. “Hey, kid, whatever happened wasn't your fault. If you weren't there, you weren't there. And besides, you would've been what, seven, eight years old? You couldn't do anything.”

 

“I… I guess, from a certain point of view,” the kid muttered. “But… but I would've been there! I promised! But then, after the murders, I…” He blinked hard. “I should've been there,” he repeated. 

 

Mike kind of wanted to hug him, but he doubted it would be appreciated. “But the phone guy- That is, Fritz said he survived.”

 

“A week. He survived one week, in a coma, in _pain_ , before he died. We tried to help, but there wasn't anything-” The kid sniffed, brushing at his eyes. “There wasn't anything we could do,” he mumbled, fighting to steady his breathing. “He must've been so _scared_ … We were his _friends_ , and we…”

 

“Hey…” Mike reached out instinctively, but the kid jerked away from him before he got close. “Don't cry. You weren't a doctor or anything, what could you have done? You stayed with him, visited him. That's good, isn't it? He didn't have to die alone.”

 

The kid nodded, offering him a shaky smile. “I… I guess so. It's… better than nothing… right? And… And he's gone now, he can't be hurt by anyone now… So… it's okay… right?”

 

“Yeah, exactly.”

 

The kid's eyes flicked over to the left door. “Better shut that,” he remarked quietly. 

 

Mike glanced over, catching Bonnie peering through the open door. “Shit!” he yelped, slamming his hand over the door button. 

 

“Swear jar,” the kid said absently. 

 

“What?” Mike pulled up the monitor. Foxy was still behind the curtain. “Huh, that's weird.”

 

“What's weird?” The kid moves to look over his shoulder. 

 

“It's just… I haven't checked on Foxy in a while, but he hasn't moved. It doesn't make sense.” Mike smirked, suddenly. “Swear jar?”

 

The kid flushed. “My mum always used to do that… before…” He cut himself off. 

 

“Oh.” Mike winced. “I'm sorry.”

 

“It's okay. It was a while ago. I don't really remember her.” He sighed, ducking his head. “…What time is it?”

 

“Uh…” Mike pulled up the monitor. “About five thirty.”

 

“Oh. I should go.” The kid hopped down from the desk. “I might get in trouble if I stay, so…”

 

“Wait, wait,” Mike said. “What about the animatronics? If they catch you…”

 

“Oh, they can't hurt me.” The boy grinned reassuringly. “Have a good day, Mr. Schmidt.”

 

“Mike.”

 

“Huh?” The kid stared at him. 

 

“Call me Mike,” the guard clarified. “I'm not old enough to be Mr. Schmidt just yet!”

 

“Oh. Okay, Mike.” The kid hesitated in the doorway. “…Will.”

 

“What?”

 

“My name,” the boy said. “It's Will. Will Hornigold.” He grinned proudly.

 

Mike smiled. “Alright. Go home now, Will. Get some sleep.”

 

Will smiled briefly, then slipped out the door and vanished. Mike sighed, checking the cameras once more before settling back in his chair to wait out the last few minutes. 

 

Will. 

 

Mike frowned, sitting up straight again. Will Hornigold… Where had he heard that name before?”

 

A horrible feeling clawed at his chest. Whatever this was, he didn't think he wanted to know. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Week One_

_Fifth Night_

 

“Will Hornigold,” Mike muttered. “Will Hornigold… Where have I heard that before?”

 

“Hm?” The day shift guard looked over at him. “You say something, Mike?”

 

Mike frowned. “Hey, Jeremy.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You worked night shift at the old place, didn't you? When the animatronics were still on free roam during the day.”

 

Jeremy shifted his weight uncomfortably. Now in his thirties, the older man never liked to discuss his time as night guard. Mike didn't blame him, but from the way Will talked, he'd been around for a while; maybe Jeremy knew something he didn't. “Yeah. And you're handling it now; did something happen?”

 

“Sort of.” Mike sighed. “You ever meet a kid named Will Hornigold? About thirteen now, amber eyes, red hair, Scottish?”

 

Jeremy froze. “Will… Hornigold?” He stared at Mike. “Where did you hear that?”

 

“I just… heard someone mention him.” The night guard smirked. “So you do know him.”

 

“No… Not really.” Jeremy shook his head. “I did know a kid by that name once, but… can't be him. For one, he'd be about… oh, nineteen by now, if he's still…” He trailed off. 

 

Mike could finish that sentence. “If he's still alive. The missing children… Was he one of them?”

 

“Yeah.” The day guard suddenly looked much older than thirty two. “It was him, Clara Fenn, Benny Jones, and… Thomas and Alex Wood. Middle of the afternoon, with the day guard at the time right down the hall, and still… They just vanished. I was working the night shift, so I only really heard it second hand, but…” He shook his head.  “The day guard was fired immediately, of course, and I took over the day shift. Fritz—you know, the guy who does those messages?—got brought back in for the night shift, was fired immediately, then we moved to this location. He was hired on again due to lack of alternatives, quit about a week in, then you got the job. You know the story from there.”

 

Missing. Mike's head was buzzing. Will Hornigold was _missing_ , possibly–probably–dead. But then how…? Ghosts weren't real. Maybe it was someone else. Someone who knew the story and liked to mess with people. “Those poor kids…” he muttered. 

 

“I _know_.” Jeremy shot him a nervous look. “Hey, don't tell anyone I told you all this, okay? We aren't supposed to talk about it.” 

 

“I won't.” Mike stood abruptly. “I should set up, we'll be closing soon.”

 

“Hey, wait-” But the night guard had already left. Jeremy frowned. “What is that kid playing at now?” he muttered. 

 

…

 

When Mike walked into his office, Will was already there. “Oh, hello,” he said. 

 

“Hey.” The night guard sat at the desk and booted up the tablet. The clock hit twelve as the show stage appeared on screen. “…Will?”

 

“Yeah?” Will leaned over the desk, holding his hair out of the way. It seemed looser today, a few extra strands falling loose from the ponytail so that both eyes were partially obscured. He glanced at the tablet upside down. 

 

“You want to… play a game, or something?” Mike asked. “Like… a question game. You ask a question about me, then I'll ask one about you, and we both have to answer honestly. We can refuse if it's too personal.”

 

The kid shrugged. “Sure. You want to go first?”

 

Mike nodded, checking the screen. “Yeah, sure, just let me find Bonnie. Oh, shit.” He got up and shut the door, flicking the lights to make sure the rabbit's shadow was really there. Yep, there he was. “Okay, so where were you born?”

 

Will grinned, leaning back on his hands. “Ooh, trying to soften me up with easy questions? Glasgow.” He hummed thoughtfully. “My turn. How long have you worked here?”

 

“A week, now.” Mike flicked the lights. Bonnie was still there. He sighed and went back to the tablet. “So when did you move here?”

 

“I didn't, really.” Will grinned. “My mum's a diplomat, and she comes over here a lot. She said I had to come along for ‘experience’ when I was six, and I've been doing it ever since. I have a tutor.” He sighs. “Mostly I stay in Europe, but this is a yearly thing. I usually spend the rest of the summer in England, autumn break in Northern Ireland, Christmas either with family or in Wales… The rest varies year to year.” His eyes flicked over to the right hand door. “Uh… how old are you?”

 

“Twenty two.” Mike reached out and checked the right light. Chica's face appeared in the window, and he quickly shut the door. When he checked the other door, Bonnie has vanished. He opened that door and pulled up the monitor. Freddy had left the stage, Foxy was still in Pirate's Cove, Bonnie had moved backstage, and a quick glance at the power showed it was at 75%, and around one in the morning. Not too bad, though he'd have to be careful. “How long have you been visiting this place at night?”

 

Will frowned. “This place specifically, or Freddy Fazbear's in general?”

 

“In… general, I guess,” Mike said. It seemed like a strange question, but then, he was old enough that he might have gone to some of the older branches. And it was possible that there were branches in Europe that he didn't know about. 

 

“Well… about six years ago, now.” The kid fell back onto the desk. “Once or twice before then. I kept daring my friend Tom to do it, and he never would unless I came, too.”

 

“Tom?” Tom… as in Thomas Wood, maybe? It seemed like a coincidence, but then, so did the kid who apparently broke into failing pizzerias on a regular basis having the same name as another kid who had vanished six years ago. 

 

“Only one question at a time,” Will complained. “But I will say he's my best friend in the world.” He chuckled. “One of my only friends, actually. He used to say I traveled too much, but my schedule's become a lot more reliable. I just don't get out much.”

 

Mike nodded distractedly. It wasn't possible. It _wasn't_. Ghosts didn't exist. But he found himself going over everything Will had said to him in his head. He never really talked about his situation _now_. It was almost like he was focusing entirely on his past. 

 

“Mike?”

 

His name–and possibly the name of his best friend–matched the names of two children who had vanished six years ago-

 

“Uh, Mike…?”

 

Then he realised. _Vanished_. The bodies were never discovered. The newspapers, the police, the employees, the patrons… Everyone treated this as a missing persons case. But Will… When Will talked about it, he'd called it _murder_. Kids didn't usually make assumptions like that. “…Hey, Will-”

 

“Mike!” Will pointed at the left door. When Mike hit the lights, there was Bonnie- right on the verge of leaning through, paw blocking the door button, clearly about to disable it or something. 

 

“Oh shit, oh _shit_!”

 

Will stood on the desk. “Oi!” he yelled. He glowered at the animatronic. “Shove off, you! Can't you see we're tryin' to have a conversation?!” His accent thickened slightly as he spoke, and he scowled at the animatronic. “There's nothin' here for you to concern yourself with!”

 

Mike stepped forward. “Will, hang on. Look, I'll distract it; you just go, get out of here!”

 

But before Will could do anything, Bonnie… stepped back. Mike quickly hit the door button. “What the…?”

 

Will smirked, settling back on the desk. “Guess they just like me,” he said smugly. 

 

“Of course they do.” Mike checked the power. Down to thirty percent, and it was barely three. “Shit. Uh, your turn.”

 

“Hm. Where were you working six years ago?”

 

That seemed like an odd question. “I was in high school, so I wasn't, really. Do you ever come here during the day?”

 

Will shrugged. “Sometimes. Not often. It's too… loud.” He frowned. “I don't like it.”

 

“Loud noises?” Mike ran through the monitors. Freddy was in the dining hall now, Bonnie was still at the door, and Chica was apparently in the kitchen. Foxy still hadn't moved. “Then what are you doing here, what with all the killer animatronics?”

 

Will just shrugged again. “So, how long have you lived here?”

 

Talk about changing the subject. “Here, exactly? About three years.”

 

It was at that moment that the power died. “Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

 

“Mike?” Will called through the darkness. “Mike, calm down. We're gonna be fine, okay? Just- just don't panic. I'm sure we'll make it.”

 

The Tordeador Song began to play, Freddy's eyes flickering in the doorway. Mike froze. “Will?” he murmured, holding as still as possible. “Can you answer one last question?”

 

“Uh, sure. If you like,” the kid said. It sounded like he was edging towards the animatronic. 

 

“Good. Thanks.” He took a deep breath. “How old were you, exactly, on June twenty sixth, 1987?”

 

Will made a noise like he'd been slapped. “I-”

 

But before he could answer, Freddy reared up out of the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, while I'm here, I actually drew up some art for these guys. You can see it here: http://birdspell.deviantart.com/art/FNAF-Kids-607975853  
> I can't draw for shit, though.


	4. Chapter 4

_Week One_

_Fifth Night Continued_

 

“Wait!”

 

Freddy halted, huge paw less than an inch from Mike's face, and turned in the direction of the voice. He laughed lowly, but it sounded more questioning than threatening. 

 

“You heard me,” Will snapped. “Here I am, havin' a nice conversation, and you just have to come chargin' in like the ass you are and interfere! I'm sick of it! Look, it wasn't him that did it. Give it up, will you?” It was an effort to make out what he was saying, his accent beginning to obscure the words, like it had when he'd yelled at Bonnie. 

 

Freddy stepped back a little, jaw working slowly. “Will,” he began, in a gentle voice entirely at odds with his appearance, seeming to echo from deep inside his chest. Mike stared. 

 

“Oh, no,” Will hissed. As Mike's eyes adjusted, he could see the kid standing right in front of the robot, scowling at him. “Don't you 'Will' me! He has nothing to do with this, I swear! So how about you stop terrorizing him?!”

 

Freddy clunked for a moment, then went still. From behind him another boy stepped out, just visible in the gloom, his features just as indistinguishable as anything else. “Alright, Will, alright. Calm down and let's talk this over like civilized people.”

 

“Tha's what I've been trying to do!” Will stormed silently back to the desk. “Alright, asshole, sit down and we'll _talk_.”

 

The other boy sighed. “Sorry about all this,” he said, turning to Mike. “It's not exactly the best place for introductions, but I'm Thomas, and clearly you've met Will- Do you have a flashlight or something?”

 

“Uh…” Mike rummaged through the desk drawers. “Oh, yeah! Here it is.” He flicked in on. The new kid–Thomas–smiled assuringly. His hair was the same brown as Freddy's fur, and his eyes shone blue in the light. He had on a brown sweater and jeans. “Uh, hi?”

 

“Hi,” Thomas replied. “Look, I really am sorry about all this. We thought you were- ah, someone else. But if Will likes you, then it should be fine.”

 

Will snorted. “Damn straight.” He sounded calmer now. “Come and sit, Tom. Let's sort all this out.”

 

Thomas nodded and joined him on the desk. “Well then, uh- Mike, was it? How much of the situation do you know?”

 

Mike took a deep breath. “Know? Fuck all. But… I _think_ you guys are two of the kids from the missing children's incident in '87. And I think you're possessing the animatronics. I just don't get why.”

 

Will applauded briefly. “Two for two. Knew you were a clever one.”

 

Thomas nodded. “You're right. I got Freddy, obviously, and Will has Foxy. I've been wondering why he hasn't been moving around much lately. The others… Well, I'll introduce you later, maybe. As for the why…” He trailed off. 

 

“We want to kill the guy who killed us,” Will interjected dryly. 

 

“Will!”

 

“What? It's true.” Will smirked. “Which is why we were targeting you. We know he worked here six years ago, see. Trouble is, we can't leave the pizzeria.”

 

Mike nodded slowly. “So… you need him to come back here.”

 

“Basically, yes.” Will smiled sweetly. “I'm going to rip his eye out of its socket.”

 

“Why would you say that?” Thomas asked. “You don't- You don't _say_ that.”

 

Will shrugged. “Fair's fair, eye for an eye and all that.”

 

“It's not usually literal!”

 

Mike frowned. “Wait, what?”

 

“He stabbed me in the eye!” Will complained. “With my own knife!”

 

“Holy shit,” was all Mike could say. “That's _awful_.”

 

Thomas nodded, grimacing. “Will- Will- Can you please not talk about that? I still have flashbacks to that, it's- it's terrifying and traumatic. I'd rather not think about it.”

 

Will chuckled. “Sorry. But, y'know, I'd rather joke about than let it control my- uh, afterlife.”

 

“That… makes sense,” Mike said. 

 

Thomas groaned. “Don't _encourage_ him,” he complained. “He… you know… went first, so he doesn't have the same trauma as the rest of us.”

 

“You died second, what're you complaining about?” Will smirked. Thomas smacked him upside the head. “Ow.”

 

Mike coughed. “All right, that's enough of that. Can I… help?”

 

They both stared at him. “You… want to help us?” Thomas asked. “To commit _murder_?”

 

“Not sure what it counts as,” Mike said thoughtfully, “on account of the would-be murderers being dead and all. But yeah. Whoever this guy is, he killed five innocent children. He deserves whatever you guys decide to give him.”

 

“I _like_ you,” Will announced. He turned to Thomas with a grin. “I like him. Can we keep him?”

 

Thomas sighed, pressing a hand to his temple. “Six years I've had to put up with this,” he complained. “Six years, day in, day out. I'm the only mature one here.”

 

Mike chuckled. “Well, I don't know about keeping me, but I'll keep working here as long as I can.”

 

“Really?” Will seemed to flicker briefly, and suddenly he was standing right in front of Mike, ghostly hands touching his chest, though he couldn't feel anything but a faint coldness. “You're going to keep working in a place haunted by a bunch of kids? Wonderful! Y'see, Tom? Told you he was a good one!” He flicked back to the desk and pressed against Thomas so abruptly the other boy stumbled. “I'll go tell the others. Don't kill him.” He slipped out the door and was gone. 

 

Thomas smiled. “You know, I haven't seen him this excited since before we… well, you know. It's good to see him happy again.”

 

“He was kind of… strange, when I first met him,” Mike said. “Was he… always like that?”

 

“Mm.” The kid leaned back against the desk, eyes going very far away. “At first, I don't think he really believed he was dead. Like I said, he went first, so he didn't really see what happened to the rest of us…” He sighed. “I fucked up. As the oldest, I was supposed to protect everyone… but I couldn't even move, when the killer… when it happened. By the time I snapped out of it, Will was already…” He shuddered. “You ever seen what a cleaver can do to human flesh and bone? What a butterfly knife can do to someone's eye?”

 

Mike shook his head. “…Can't say I have.”

 

Thomas looked at him, eyes almost black even in the flashlight's glow. “Pray you never do,” he said, dead serious. “It's… horrible.” That sounded like a bit of an understatement. 

 

“Oh, I thought you didn't like talking about that,” Will said lightly, appearing abruptly at Mike's shoulder. He jumped away with a yelp. “Don't be a wuss, Mike.”

 

Thomas chuckled, all the seriousness fading from his features. “Figured he should have some idea of what happens when you have an episode.”

 

“I do not have episodes,” Will said. “You have episodes. Benny, Clara and Alex have episodes. I'm fine.”

 

“Of course you are,” Thomas said dryly. “And I suppose last Tuesday never happened.”

 

Will blinked at him. “What happened last Tuesday? I don't remember that.”

 

“You never do. That's the problem.” 

 

“Last Tuesday?” Mike asked, confused. 

 

Thomas winced. “Yeah, it… wasn't pretty. Blood, screaming, severed limbs, the whole nine yards. Will's a bit of a drama queen at the best of times, which didn't help.”

 

“Drama queen?!” Will yelped, affronted. “Excuse you, I am not a drama queen!”

 

“Oh yes, my mistake,” Thomas said dryly. “Of course you're not a drama queen. You acted like you were about to faint when you got a paper cut, that's a perfectly reasonable response.”

 

“I was young and foolish then,” Will insisted primly. 

 

“You were thirteen.”

 

“Exactly!”

 

It was a startling thought, Mike realised abruptly. Will only looked thirteen, Thomas maybe fourteen or fifteen. But, really, Will was nineteen at least, Thomas a year or two older than that. They were really only a little younger than Mike himself. 

 

“You know, it'll be stranger in five, ten years,” Will said abruptly. “Especially for the others.”

 

“Huh?”

 

The boy shrugged. “Well, right now we're six years older than we look. What about when we're ten years older? Fifteen? It's a weird feeling, being thirteen forever.” He frowned. “And also dead. That's weird too.”

 

Thomas sighed. “Well, the dead part is infinitely better than the dying part. And the first year or so… Yikes. It wasn't pleasant. Especially for the night guard. Can't remember his name now…”

 

“Jeremy,” Mike said. “Jeremy Fitzgerald. He works the day shift now. He's a nice guy.”

 

“He seemed nice enough, thinking back on it,” Will mused. “I'd apologise, if I could do it without scaring him to death, or revealing our continued existence to the entire planet. I… did throw myself directly at his forehead once. Nearly bit his head off.”

 

“He tripped,” Thomas informed him. “Didn't throw himself at all. He tripped over his big feet. It was hilarious.”

 

“I wasn't used to it!” Will whined. “You never ran anywhere, you lazy ass, what are you laughing about?!”

 

“Whether I ran or not is immaterial,” Thomas said. “It was hilarious.”

 

“Love you too, asshole.” Will glanced over at the screen. “Oh, it's almost six. Time for us to go. Tom, grab your big metal ass and get it in gear.”

 

“Alright, alright.” Thomas walked over to Freddy and pressed himself against the metal. After a moment, he simply sank into the suit, and it clanked into motion. “Will we see you tomorrow?” he asked creakily. 

 

“I might be able to get another day as overtime,” Mike allowed. “We'll see what happens.”

 

Freddy nodded and ambled off down the hall. Will grinned. “Hey, if you're around during the day, feel free to stop by Pirate's Cove. I could use the company.”

 

“I'll do that.” Maybe it would do some good to take a quick peek at Foxy, anyway; Mike had always been good with mechanics, maybe he could get the old thing up and running again. Will could probably use company other than him, Thomas, and the other three kids. Yes, he'd stop by the next chance he got. Even if Will didn't care, it would be great for the restaurant and the kids if he could get Foxy working again. “You know, if you really want to apologise to Jeremy, I could bring him by some time.”

 

“Really?” Will smiled, all wide-eyed enthusiasm. “That'd be great. But… maybe not yet?”

 

“Alright. Not yet.”


	5. Chapter 5

_Week One_

_Sixth Night_

 

Jeremy wasn't happy with Mike's idea. 

 

“Look, Mike. Foxy was a great animatronic, and the kids loved him. But he's a _wreck_ now. Hasn't worked properly in years. The only reason he hasn't been scrapped is because the management can't be bothered. Leave him be.”

 

Mike scowled. “But if I could get him running again, imagine the good that'd do. Let me take a look, at least. The things don't get anything that could even be considered maintenance. It might be something easy to fix. My shift starts in half an hour; let me look him over quickly. If it goes well, maybe I can take a look at the others, too. At the very least, I could clean them off.”

 

The day guard hesitated. “…I really shouldn't. But… I guess I feel kind of bad for those old things. Even if they are crazy. Sure, go ahead. Take a look.”

 

“Thanks.” A part of Mike wanted to suggest that Jeremy came with him, but he knew Will would rather he didn't. So instead, all he said was “If I manage to get him fixed up, you should come and look.”

 

“Maybe I will.”

 

Mike waved with a grin and took off towards Pirate's Cove. An unsettling sensation of being watched crept over him, but he shrugged it off; it was probably just one of the kids.

 

“Alright?”

 

Mike jumped. “Wha- Will! Don't _do_ that!”

 

The kid laughed, falling into step beside him. “So you are coming to say hello after all?”

 

The night guard sighed. “Yeah. I would've come sooner, but I had some other stuff to deal with. Sorry.”

 

Will shrugged. “Eh, it's fine. Don't worry about it.” He grinned. “D'you really think you can get Foxy up and running again?”

 

“I don't know. But I'll give it my best shot.”

 

“It'd be great if you could.” Will sighed. “I really liked being out there, making kids happy… y'know? It was like… maybe I couldn't have a childhood, or a life, or anything… but if I was making someone else happy, it was okay. But then the stupid piece of metal broke down, and I've been stuck in Pirate's Cove ever since. Tom and I agreed right at the beginning that we couldn't risk someone recognizing us and panicking, so I haven't really left. It's really just Alex and I, during the day.”

 

“Alex?” Mike echoed. “Alex… Wood?”

 

“Yeah, that's him.” Will gave him a sidelong look. “You asked Mr. Fitzgerald about us, then?” He stopped. “Ah, here we are. Home sweet home.”

 

Sure enough, when Mike looked up they were standing in front of the curtain. “What, not going to invite me in?”

 

Will laughed, slipping through the gap in the fabric. “My apologies. How rude of me. Please, come in.”

 

Mike did, and immediately wanted to leave again. The air in the Cove was thick with dust, and it was nearly impossible to see through the gloom. Mike pulled out his phone and shone the screen around. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the light shone on Foxy's sharp teeth. “H-hey, Will, is there a light in here?”

 

“Oh, right. Over here.” Will slipped over to the animatronic and pressed himself against it. After a moment, much like Thomas the night before, he sank into it, and Foxy whirred to life. He turned awkwardly and jammed his hook against something behind him. As a light flickered on overhead, the animatronic stilled and Will reappeared at Mike's side, covered in dust and coughing. He brushed himself off. “Next time…” he managed between coughs, “…you can manage that. This is why I don't use that thing unless people ignore me.”

 

“So that's why you barely came after me,” Mike said. “I'll clean him up once I've got him running again. Just by looking at him, I can see it's nothing major. Should take a week or two to fix, depending on how fast I can get parts… and I'll need someone to fix up that big gash in the fabric… But I can do it.”

 

Will stared at him with big golden eyes. “R-really?” he asked softly, suddenly sounding very young. “You can?”

 

“Yeah,” Mike assured him. “Just give me some time.”

 

Will grinned. “I have nothing but time. Oh- You should probably get to the office. Tom'll keep the others under control as best he can, but best not to be out in the open anyways.” He sighed. “I mean, they'd probably listen to me if I told them not to hurt you, but… y'know, it's not really a risk I want to take.”

 

“Right, right,” Mike said. “I need to make a list of what I'll need to fix Foxy up, anyway; may as well do it there.”

 

Will nodded and stepped toward the curtain, just as the clock struck midnight. “Uh oh. Better run.”

 

Mike nodded and broke into a sprint, Will just visible at his side. He didn't slow down until he reached the office, throwing himself into his chair and pulling up the monitor. The animatronics were all still on the stage. “Okay.”

 

Will leaned over his shoulder. “If they all stay together, you probably don't have to worry. The others all tend to stay in the animatronics, so they'll probably show up in them. If one of them shows up alone, shut the door. Got it?”

 

“What, even Thomas?”

 

“Mm.” The kid nodded. “ _Especially_ Thomas. He said he wouldn't let the others out of his sight, so if he shows up alone he's having an… episode. I'll deal with it if that happens, but you can't let him get in here with Freddy. That'd be… bad.”

 

Mike frowned. “What are these 'episodes'? That's the second time you guys have mentioned them.”

 

“They're… bad,” Will said. “You'll know it if you see it. I just hope you don't. Rule of thumb: red smoke is bad. Just… if you see that, find Tom or I fast.”

 

“That didn't answer my question,” Mike complained, reaching for the monitor. “They're all in the party room, by the way.”

 

Will shrugged. “Trust me, Mike. You don't _want_ me to answer your question.”

 

“Alright… Red smoke is bad, got it. Anything else I need to know?”

 

Will frowned. “Don't try to get too close to them. Tom and I can handle being near you because we know you had nothing to do with us, but the others might be a bit uncomfortable. Let Tom stay between you and them, and be patient. It should be fine. Worst case scenario, Tom and I get them out so you can lock the door, but I doubt it'll come to that with us vouching for you, as long as you don't spook them. Uh… keeping your hands in view at all times wouldn't be a bad idea, either. You pretty much do that anyway, but it's really important now. They're just kids, really, so it'll be a lot easier to scare them than it would be to scare Tom and I. Keep that in mind, yeah?”

 

“I'll do that,” Mike assured him. “So Thomas is bringing them here together? All of them?”

 

“Well, he's bringing Benny and Clara. I'll find Alex once he gets here.” Will smiled. “He's good at hiding, so I'm usually the one to look for him, since I'm never in Foxy anyway.”

 

“Benny and Clara got Bonnie and Chica, I'm guessing?” At Will's nod, he continued, “Then who did Alex end up with? Is he sharing with someone else?”

 

Will tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Well… have you seen the golden version of Freddy? No, guess not. But that's Alex. He… doesn't come out much.”

 

Mike nodded, glancing toward the door. “Thomas! When… did you get here?”

 

The hulking bear shrugged, leading Bonnie and Chica into the office. “Just now,” he said in his strange, echoing voice. “Guys, this is Mike. Mike, this is Benny and Clara.”

 

Mike deliberately put both his hands on the desk, where everyone could see them. “Hey,” he said gently. Will moved to perch on the desk between him and the animatronics. “It's nice to meet you.”

 

Chica clacked her beak nervously. “Why is he here?” she asked in the same echoing manner as Freddy. “We don't wanna meet any grown ups!”

 

“He's a _nice_ grown up, though,” Will assured her. “I trust him. And you trust me, right, Clara?”

 

“Uh huh…” she said. “But I still don't like him!”

 

Bonnie stepped forward a little, peeking around Freddy. “But…” he murmured, “if Will and Thomas think he's nice… then he's nice… right?”

 

Thomas slipped out of Freddy's chest and turned to smile at them. “He's _very_ nice,” he promised. “He even said he'd help us!”

 

“Really?” Benny poked his head out of the rabbit. He looked about seven or eight, with messy brown hair and violet eyes. He turned to Mike. “You'll… really help us?”

 

“If I can,” Mike said. 

 

“He's even gonna fix up Foxy for me!” Will said brightly. 

 

“Is that even possible?” Clara asked skeptically, blonde head coming into view.

 

“Yeah,” Will said. “It's not even that badly damaged, right, Mike?”

 

“Right,” Mike agreed. “A couple of weeks at most, if I can get the parts quickly. If you guys like I can take a look at yours, too.”

 

Will grinned. “You guys seem to have this well in hand, so I'm gonna go find Alex. Don't kill anyone while I'm gone!” He took off as the younger two thought over Mike's offer. 

 

Thomas sighed. “How about we all sit down and talk things over while Will finds Alex?” he suggested. “He'll probably be back in a minute or two.”

 

Clara and Benny glanced at each other nervously, then edged forward a few paces and settled on the floor near the desk, so that only their heads were visible from where Mike sat. Thomas leaned against the desk in his usual place, tapping a simple rhythm against it. It was Clara who spoke first. “Hey Mister, can you really make Foxy work again?”

 

“Yeah,” Mike said. “I just need to find all the parts I'll need, then I can get him up and running again, easy. And I can at least clean these guys off,” he added, wrinkling his nose at the animatronics and the faint odour of rotting meat that always rose from them. Clara giggled. 

 

Benny edged closer. “And is it true that you'll help find the guy that… y'know.”

 

“Of course,” Mike promised. “I'll do anything I can.”

 

The boy smiled. “…Thank you, Mr. Schmidt.”

 

“It's _Mike_ ,” he said. “You know, I had to tell Will the same thing. I'm not old enough to be Mr. Schmidt!”

 

“Okay, Mike,” Benny said, smiling. 

 

“Thomas!” a new voice called suddenly. “ _Thomas!_ ”

 

Thomas jumped to his feet. “Alex?”

 

A boy ran into the office. He was blonde, with the same blue eyes as Thomas. It was obvious they were related. “Thomas!”

 

“What is it, cuz?” Thomas asked. “…Where's Will?”

 

“Down by the Cove,” Alex informed him, glancing over at Mike warily. “He said… He said to come and get you as fast as I could.”

 

Thomas groaned. “Now?” he asked, voice both aggravated and concerned. “Dammit…” He looked around. “Okay, okay… Mike, come with me. You three _stay here_ until we get back, promise?”

 

Alex nodded. “Promise,” he said. “Will's gonna be fine, right?”

 

“Right. Come on, Mike!” Thomas took off down the hall, Mike keeping pace as best he could. “Shit, of all the times…”

 

“What's happening, anyway?” Mike asked. 

 

Thomas sighed. “Well, you wanted to know what our episodes were. Maybe you're lucky. You get to see one. We–that is, Will and I–don't let the kids see them if we can help it, but they don't trust you yet, and I don't want to leave you on your own… But it's not gonna be pleasant.”

 

“Right.” A part of Mike wanted to ask what exactly was going to happen. Then they turned the corner into Pirate's Cove, and it was no longer necessary.

 

Maybe Thomas said something. Mike couldn't tell; all he could hear was the scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, I've been looking at Wick lately, and imagining how these homicidal undead kids would interact with those homicidal undead kids.  
> Will totally played Wick at some point. And then when he died he just thought 'Oh, so this is why they wanted to murder everyone.'  
> And if they all met up he'd get really annoyed because there's suddenly two Toms. Everyone else would be fine, though.


	6. Chapter 6

_Week One_

_Sixth Night Continued_

 

It was the most chilling sound Mike had ever heard. He'd heard people scream before, but this… This was the sound of someone so absorbed in their own agony that nothing else mattered, and it was coming from a _child_. A child he _knew_. 

 

The figure in front of him was barely even recognisable as Will. He was lying on the ground, red smoke flowing from his face and chest and billowing around him, facing toward the curtain. As Mike watched, he shifted slightly, and another blood-curdling scream filled the air. 

 

“Will!” Thomas ran forward, kneeling beside the other boy and pulled him into his arms. “Will, it's okay, it's okay, it's not real…” he cooed. “C'mon, wake up now, you'll scare the kids.”

 

“What the hell,” Mike whispered, because now he could get a decent look at the kid. The right side of his face was a mess, like someone had gouged at it repeatedly, and his _eye_ … The socket was filled with blood and a jelly-like substance that maybe had been an eye at one point, and Mike very quickly looked away, feeling like he was about to be sick. The blood overflowed and spilled down Will's cheek like tears, matching the real tears on his other cheek. Mike quickly lowered his gaze. There was a deep gash in Will's chest, too, with blood soaking into his shirt, and there was nothing left of his right hand but a stump. The smoke was pouring out of his wounds with the blood. “What the _hell_ …”

 

Thomas nodded distractedly, brushing his friend's hair away from his lost eye. “Hey, Will, come on, it's okay, we're okay… It'll stop eventually, but I don't know…”

 

Will let out another cracking scream. Mike knelt instinctively, reaching out to rest a hand on the kid's shoulder. Everything went very still and cold, and he blinked-

 

_-and stared around the dark room in sudden fear, he locked the door, why'd he lock the door, this was supposed to be safe, nonono-_

_-his hand touched the knife in his pocket and he flipped it open just as the man turned from taking off the suit with a heavy cleaver in hand, tugging Clara behind him and bringing the blade down, blood spraying across the room-_

_-the man howled and struck back, opening a gash in his chest, and when he staggered at the pain he was shoved up against the wall and his head cracked against the plaster, the man had grabbed his arm-_

_-everyone was screaming and begging now, but he could only watch in silent shock as his balisong fell away, still clutched between his fingers-_

_-he screamed, staring at the empty space where his hand had been, clutching at his wrist as the guard knelt and scooped up his hand, pulled the balisong from his fingers-_

_-the man pressed a hand to his throat to pin him in place as his own balisong flew towards his face and the last thing he saw was **purple** as a voice howled-_

_“Will!”_

 

“Mike! Mike!”

 

When Mike opened his eyes, he was met by Thomas staring at him in confused concern. “…What happened?”

 

“Don't know,” Thomas said tiredly. “You touched Will, and then you collapsed. He's fine now, just resting.”

 

“That's… That's good.” Mike pushed away the images he'd seen. He could ask later. “What _was_ that?”

 

Thomas shrugged, leaning back and lowering a hand to run it through Will's hair. The kid was barely visible, just a faded blur of red hair and red-brown leather on the floor, head pillowed against Thomas's leg. Mike hadn't even noticed him at first. “You did want to know what our episodes were like. That one was worse than usual, though.”

 

Mike nodded slowly, sitting up. “Are you sure he's going to be okay?”

 

“He always is.” Thomas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “His… are the worst in some respects, but the best in others. I mean… His… death… was the… most horrible, if I had to pick… but he didn't have to watch anyone else die. I mean… for me, it's not feeling myself die again that's the hardest part. It's more… knowing that I failed. Knowing that… my best friend's dead… and the kids are probably about to follow… because I didn't do anything…” He sniffed quickly, running the sleeve of his hoodie across his eyes. 

 

“Wasn't your fault,” Will murmured, still unmoving. A bit more colour had come to him now, but he still looked washed out. He cracked open one eye. “Aw, don't cry, Tom.”

 

Thomas managed a watery smile. “Sorry. You okay now?”

 

“Been better.” Will dragged himself up onto his elbows, and Thomas pressed a hand to his back, helping him sit up. “…Tch. Sorry you had to see that, Mike…” He wasn't just talking about the wounds and that horrible screaming, was he? He must have felt Mike in his memories somehow. 

 

“No, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with that.”

 

“'S fine, we're used to it.” Will raised a hand to his face, rubbing at the faint bloodstains just visible on his cheek. “…I think I can stand now…”

 

He could, but only with Thomas's arm around his waist to support him. Walking was completely out of the question, and in the end Thomas cajoled him into climbing onto his back to head back to the office. 

 

The kids swarmed the two of them, edging around Mike to stare up with big eyes as Will smiled and promised that he was fine as though he wasn't clinging to Thomas's shoulders, unable to stand. Mike went to sit at the desk, and Thomas dropped Will on the metal beside him, the kids settling on the floor nearby as Thomas leaned in his usual spot. 

 

Will smiled at the kids. “Hey, I'm alright, really. Don't worry.”

 

“I'm sorry…” Alex said. “Maybe I should've stayed…”

 

“No!” Will yelped. “…No, that's fine. It… wasn't even that bad, so…”

 

No one believed it, not even Clara, who couldn't have been older than six, not with the forced smile on his lips and the way he was still far too pale. But no one said anything. Mike wasn't sure whether the kids didn't want him to know that they knew how bad it was, or if they knew it had passed and saw no point in arguing, but he did know that whoever had done this to these kids deserved a fate worse than death. 

 

The conversation eventually passed from Will to some game that had come out a year or so before the incident. Mike had never heard of it; nor had Clara or Benny. But the other three were happy to explain. Will seemed fully recovered, at least, back to full colour and gesturing wildly. He looked so… _alive_. 

 

But then, even as Mike thought that, Will turned to glance at him, and his eyes looked dead and glassy. “Hey, Mike. Can we talk?”

 

“Uh, sure.” Will slipped off the desk and strolled over to the door, head down and hands in his pockets. Mike followed uncertainly. 

 

“Won't be a minute,” Will promised, glancing over at Thomas. “Don't look at me like that, I won't hurt him.”

 

“…Right,” Thomas said. “Hurry back.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Will strolled a few feet down the hall, then stopped, turning to watch Mike with those dead eyes. “You saw.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

“Hm.” Will took a step towards him. “You still want to help us, knowing what he's capable of?”

 

Mike nodded slowly. “More than ever. Anyone who could do something like that to _anyone_ , much less a *child*… isn't someone who can be allowed to get away.”

 

“Hm,” he said again, something sparking in his eyes. “Well, then. You're very trusting, you know.”

 

“Yeah, well.” Mike ran a hand through his hair. “I don't think you're lying. Besides… ghosts and… murder and vengeance? I'm partially convinced I'm dreaming.”

 

Will chuckled softly, little more than a breath. “Don't I wish. But no, you're very much awake. Still want to help?”

 

“You're actively trying to scare me off, aren't you?” It wasn't really a question. “Of course. I said I would, didn't I?”

 

Will hummed softly. “Saying and doing aren't the same thing. Keep that in mind, okay?”

 

The sensation of being watched crept over Mike again, just like it had outside Pirate's Cove before his shift. “…I know. You're acting a little weird… Is everything okay?”

 

“Of course.” He said that, but his eyes were still so dull and glassy, more like painted marbles than actual eyes. “Why wouldn't I be?”

 

“Hey, you two.” Thomas poked his head around the doorframe. “Everything okay out here?”

 

Will shook himself, like he was pushing something off him. “Yeah, we're good. What's up?”

 

The other kid grinned sheepishly. “Nothing… You were just taking a long time, so…”

 

“Aw, were you worried about little old me?” Will asked, the light coming back to his eyes so abruptly it was as if someone had simply flipped a switch. 

 

“…Maybe a little,” Thomas admitted. “I'm already regretting it.”

 

“My knight in shining armour,” Will teased. “Came to save the day?”

 

“Oh, ha ha, Princess,” Thomas returned with a soft laugh. 

 

Mike chuckled at the two of them, and they both turned to stare at him. “What?”

 

“You two,” he said. “You just… You tease each other a lot, for best friends.”

 

“I wouldn't call it a lot,” Thomas protested.

 

Will nodded. “Besides, isn't that what best friends do?”

 

Mike shrugged. “I wouldn't know,” he admitted. “I've never… really had any.”

 

“Aw, Mike,” Will cooed. “We'll be your friends.”

 

“Huh?” Mike stared at him. “I don't know…”

 

The kid grinned. “Well, why not? If it's the age difference, think about it. You're what, twenty two? Technically we're only a couple years younger than you, right?”

 

Mike scratched his head awkwardly. “No. Well, yes. But… it's more the fact that you're… you know… dead? And stuck in a failing pizzeria?”

 

“Oh.” Will frowned. “I suppose that is a slight drawback.” He grinned again. “But hey, I bet once we find the guy that offed us and kill him horribly, we'll be able to leave! So we'll be your friends, okay?”

 

Thomas chuckled. “Say yes,” he advised. “My dear princess never takes no for an answer.”

 

“Princess?!” Will jumped at his friend, knocking them both to the ground in a flurry of laughter and playful insults. 

 

Mike couldn't help but laugh at them. He really had never had much by way of friends. Ghostly kids or not… he could get used to this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be a while before I get a chance to post the next chapter. The horror of exams has snuck up on me once again, so I kind of rushed to get this up beforehand...


	7. Chapter 7

_Week One_

_Seventh Night_

 

Mike turned to smile at the others, putting down the phone. “Well, that's that. The parts to fix up the animatronics should be here in about a week.”

 

Will grinned. “Yes! You're the _best_ , Mike!”

 

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Am I? Please, go on.”

 

“No more ego-stroking for you,” Will declared, moving to lean over Thomas's shoulder. 

 

Clara giggled from her place on the floor. “You're not allowed to say that, Will! Thomas said your ego's _way_ bigger than anyone else's is!”

 

Will turned to Thomas with a hurt pout, eyes wide in affront. “It is not!” he whined. “I simply have a healthy respect for my own abilities, seeing as no one else here does.”

 

Thomas chuckled. “Okay, Will, I admit it, you're very handy with that knife of yours.”

 

“Not that it did us much good,” Clara added, with that particular way children had of saying something cruel without realising it. 

 

Will turned to stare at her, all the humour fading from him. “Don't joke about that,” he said seriously.

 

Thomas coughed. “Right. He's right, Clara. Don't joke about that. But, uh, no harm done, right? She didn't mean anything by it.” The last part was directed solely at Will, who had turned away from the others and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Will?”

 

“Mm? Oh, right.” Will turned to offer Thomas a bright smile. “No, it's fine.”

 

Benny looked over the desk at Mike, deliberately keeping the metal between them. “It's not usually so serious around here,” he informed him. “I think it's mostly because you're new, so everyone's being a bit weird.”

 

“Are you saying it's my fault?” Mike asked, fixing a mock frown onto his lips. Benny giggled. 

 

“Oh yes, all your fault,” Will teased, stretching over the desk. Mike quickly pulled his hands back before the kid's torso could go through them. “Fixing us up, offering to help us… Oh, you're such a troublemaker.”

 

“Fine, then I won't fix you,” Mike retorted. “Foxy can stay a pile of scrap parts for all eternity.”

 

“Aw, Mike,” Will cooed. “C'mon, don't be like that. I'm your friend, aren't I?”

 

“Yes,” Mike said slowly, with the horrible feeling of walking into a trap. 

 

“Well, as I am your friend, and by extension you're my friend, I was so sure you'd understand I was joking! I'm sorry, next time I'll be more blatant about it.”

 

“You're so cruel,” Thomas said dryly. “Don't be rude, Will. I know you're worried he'll steal my affection, but you'll always be first in my eyes.”

 

“Y'know, I might have been touched by that if you weren't being so obviously sarcastic. Mike! Tom hates me now!”

 

Alex grinned. “I think Benny and I are the only mature ones here. Right, Benny?”

 

Benny nodded. “Right!”

 

“Wow. Rude,” Will sighed. “Tom, why didn't you raise him right? Such a shame, promising lad like him.”

 

“I did a great job,” Thomas insisted. “This is all on him.”

 

“Now, now, don't blame your shortcomings on the precious child.”

 

Mike coughed. “Can we focus? Please? Will, Thomas, do you mind acting like the adults you technically are?”

 

“The operative word here being _technically_ ,” Will pointed out. “Being dead does nothing for maturity levels.”

 

“Take Will,” Thomas added. “I think he's regressing. But that aside,” he continued over Will's complaints, “what is it?”

 

Mike leaned back in his chair. “We need to figure out who it is you're looking for before you can get your revenge, right?” He dropped a folder on the desk. “This is everything I could dig up on Fazbear Entertainment employees from six years ago. No pictures, unfortunately, but it's a start, at least.”

 

Will and Thomas leaned over the folder. Will reached out for it, then stopped. “Mike, do you mind…?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Thomas gestured at the folder sheepishly. “We can't, uh… We can't open it.”

 

Mike flinched. “Oh! Oh, right, sorry.” He flipped it open. “Better?”

 

“Mm.” The two of them read over the names together. Thomas stopped on each one, considering carefully, while Will flew through the entire page, went back, and read it again and again until Thomas finished as well, running his finger along the names. 

 

“Dammit!” he hissed at last. “I know the guy was wearing a name tag, but I don't remember… Tom, you get anything out of this?”

 

Thomas shook his head. “Nothing.” He turned to the kids. “…I hate to do this, but do any of you remember anything? Anything at all?”

 

“He had… dark hair, I think,” Alex volunteered slowly. “And he was wearing a purple hat.”

 

“…Hair dye,” Will said abruptly. “I think… he had purple streaks in his hair? Maybe? I… I'm not sure, but… since it got brought up…”

 

“And really scary eyes!” Clara added. “I knew we were in trouble just from his eyes… I think.”

 

“Really? I knew we were in trouble from the giant cleaver, myself.”

 

“His name started with F,” Benny murmured. “Or maybe E? I don't know which…”

 

Thomas smiled. “Good… That's good! It's somewhere to start.” He read through the list again. “Mike, can you figure out which of these people worked in the location it happened in? Because right now I've got a good forty names.”

 

“I can look into it,” Mike promised. 

 

“And then we'll need pictures of those people,” Thomas continued. “I'm sure we'll recognise him if we see him.”

 

“And won't _that_ be pleasant,” Will sighed. “Mike, you can get that, right?”

 

“Yeah, just give me a couple days.”

 

“Good,” Thomas said. “Now then-”

 

The kids all went abruptly silent. Mike frowned. “Guys, what-”

 

Will raised a finger to Mike's lips, the sensation of cold air telling him to shut up. “Listen,” he whispered. 

 

From somewhere above them came the soft, tinkling melody of a music box. Clara giggled. “It's just Mari,” she said, and began to sing along to the tune. “Round and round the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel. The monkey stopped to pull up his sock-”

 

Thomas swallowed hard. “Pop goes the weasel.”

 

Next came a blur of sharp motion. Mike threw himself back so hard that the chair tipped over, but he was aware of the kids yelling at something, then the sound of something falling to the ground. Two somethings, actually, if Will's vaguely startled yelp and the muted clatter of something like wood wrapped thickly in cloth hitting the tile were any indication. Then Clara was giggling, and Thomas was apologising to someone, the effect somewhat spoiled by Will muttering insults. 

 

Eventually, Thomas sighed. “Okay, Mike, you can come out now. He won't kill you on sight.”

 

Mike slowly untangled himself from the chair and stood up, looking over at the situation before him. He froze. 

 

Sitting comfortably on the tiles, staring directly at him, was a puppet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are done, so I can get back to posting. I actually finished this chapter a lot quicker than I was expecting, even if it is a little on the short side.


	8. Chapter 8

_Week One_

_Seventh Night Continued_

 

“Uh… hi.” Mike waved awkwardly. The puppet just stared, like it was trying to figure out the best way of devouring his soul or something. 

 

Will nudged it. “Oh, c'mon, Mari. Say hello at least. Not his fault I accidentally knocked you over.”

 

The puppet turned to him. “That was not an accident,” it said in the soft, dry voice that Mike had expected Benny or Alex to have. “And it was his fault, as you were protecting him, Will.”

 

“Oops,” Will said unrepentantly. 

 

The puppet sighed. “Greetings, Mike Schmidt,” it said softly. “I am Marionette.” It stared at him. “I am also not an 'it'.”

 

“Uh… sorry?” Was it- Was _he_ a mind reader or something?

 

“Or something,” Marionette said dryly. 

 

Will snickered. “He has that effect on people. We can do it too, sometimes!”

 

Thomas cuffed him upside the head. “Not now, Will…”

 

Marionette shook his head, like a parent might when their children acted up. “Boys, please,” he said calmly. “Try not to get carried away.”

 

Will sighed, perching comfortably on the desk. “So what brings you out, Mari? Did that circus music thing break down?”

 

“…Yes, actually. The speaker stopped working. Then I noticed Mike, here, and… I'm afraid I jumped to conclusions.”

 

“Mm.” Will glanced at Mike. “Hey, Mike, could you fix his speaker?”

 

Mike nodded. “I can try. Probably not tonight, unless we can dig up some tools…”

 

“I think there are some backstage,” Thomas offered. “They're designed for working with the animatronics, though, so I'm not sure how much use they'll be. And I can't remember exactly where they are, either…”

 

“I saw them last time I was backstage!” Benny offered. “I'll take you!”

 

“I can come too, if you like,” Will said lazily, leaning back on his hands and glancing over. 

 

Benny shook his head. “I'll just bring Bonnie. I'm not scared, if that's what you're saying.”

 

“Nah, of course not.” Will grinned. “Make sure our night guard doesn't do anything stupid without Tom and I around, yeah?”

 

“Got it!”

 

“Hey, I don't need a babysitter,” Mike chuckled. “But, if you insist on being a mother hen…”

 

Thomas laughed, shooing them off. “Go on, get out of here. Leave Will and his fussing to me.”

 

Benny slipped into Bonnie and gestured for Mike to follow, giggling. Mike shook his head and waved a brief farewell to the others before doing so. 

 

Bonnie squeaked faintly as they went through the halls. Mike frowned at the animatronic's back. “While we're at it, I'll see if I can find an oil can or something,” he mused. “I can't do any serious work until the parts I ordered show up, but I can at least stop all this squeaking.”

 

“That sounds good!” Benny said. “I don't mind it that much, but Will and Mari say it gives them headaches. I'm not sure how… I mean, you wouldn't think stuff like that would bother us now.”

 

“You'd think,” Mike replied. “How does this ghost stuff work, anyway?”

 

“Not sure,” the boy said thoughtfully. “You should ask Mari. Oh, but he might not answer you… Thomas and Will probably know! They're older, so Mari tells them more.”

 

“I'll do that once we get back,” Mike decided. “Oh, that's the entrance to the backstage there, isn't it?”

 

“Mm-hm.” Bonnie nodded. “I'll wait here for you. Those stairs are hard to get up in this. There'll be a table on your right, with a red box on it. The tools and things are in there.”

 

“One toolbox?” Mike asked, climbing the five stairs to the backstage area. “That's all you guys get for maintenance? No wonder the animatronics are a mess.”

 

There it was, sitting on the table, right where Benny said it was. “Alright, got it!” he called. “Can't see it very well in this light, and it's pretty creepy in here, so I'll look once we get back to the office, okay, Benny?” A muffled voice said something in response. Mike turned to leave. 

 

Oh, no. 

 

Red smoke was billowing up from the stairs. What was it Will had said? Well, he'd seen what the smoke meant, but with Benny in the suit…

 

A mechanical, distorted scream cut through the air, and Mike dove back to hide among the empty suits. Oh, shit. “Thomas!” he yelled as loud as he could. “Will!”

 

Bonnie could handle the stairs, given time. But now that Mike had called the others, he didn't really want to change locations and risk them losing track of him. If Bonnie got up them before the others arrived, he'd try to duck around him and make a run for the office. 

 

Even as he thought it, Bonnie's heavy feet clomped up the stairs. The robot took a quick glance around. “Where… are… you?” Benny whispered, the echo even more disturbing than usual. He began to move slowly, squeaking around towards the far side of the table. Mike edged around the table as well, staying out of the robot's line of sight until he was as close as possible to the door. Then he sprinted from the room, skipping the stairs entirely in his hurry. 

 

“Guys!” he called. “Hurry up, will you?!”

 

“Mike!” Freddy came barreling down the hall towards him, Will sprinting at his side. “Get behind me!”

 

Mike did so, ducking behind Freddy just before Bonnie reached him. The bear caught him quickly, endoskeleton straining with the effort of stopping the other robot in its tracks. “Will!” he grunted. “I can't hold him for long like this! Hurry up!”

 

“Right, right.” Will slipped around and rested his hands on Bonnie's side, taking a moment to brace himself against the felt. Bonnie squirmed, but Freddy held him fast. Then Will's forearms sank into the robot. “He's fighting it,” he hissed. “Just a moment.” He leaned back and _pulled_. Bonnie went still, and Benny just… fell out into Will's arms. 

 

“Shit, this is just as bad as yours,” Thomas said. “What is going on around here?”

 

Mike swallowed. At least it looked less messy than Will's, with just a relatively clean cut across the throat. Even so, it was hard to look at. “What…”

 

“Yeah, that's how most of the others were killed,” Will said absently, kneeling down to rest Benny's head in his lap. “I got the fun death, lucky me.”

 

“Not now, Will,” Thomas snapped, slipping out of Freddy to join the other two. “Easy, Benny, I know it's scary…”

 

Will glanced up, running a hand through Benny's hair. “…Hey, Mike.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

The kid frowned. “That thing you did… during mine? Whatever it was, it helped snap me out of it, I think. Want to try it again?”

 

Mike nodded. “If you think it'll help.” He knelt as well, reaching out to touch Benny's shoulder-

 

_-and it was just him and Alex left, the others were all-_

_-not dead, not dead, they couldn't be dead, they were just unconscious, that had to be it, the hero always won in the end-_

_-the man moved closer, grinning, and he was screaming, begging, Will, Thomas, someone, help-_

_-the cleaver rose in a flash of **purple** , and pain rushed through his throat-_

_- **help… me…**_

 

Mike opened his eyes. Once more, he was collapsed on the cold floor, Thomas staring down at him. “Shit,” came Will's voice from off to one side. “Is that what happened last time, too?”

 

“Yeah,” Thomas said, glancing over. “Mike, you good?” 

 

“I think so,” Mike said, sitting up. “It's not as bad as it was last time.”

 

Will was still kneeling on the floor. Benny had gone just as translucent as Will had before, and the older boy had apparently been murmuring something into his ear as Mike woke, if the way he was bent over was any indication. “Well, that's something,” he sighed. “Benny'll be up in a minute. He always bounces back quickly.”

 

Mike leaned against the wall. “While we're waiting, how does this whole ghost thing work? I asked Benny earlier, but he didn't know. Said to ask you two.”

 

Will shrugged. “It's… weird. This sort of… experience… thing… I don't know how to explain it. Tom?”

 

Thomas frowned thoughtfully. “Well… It's sort of like… Uh, what exactly do you want to know, to start with?”

 

“Well, how were you able to pull him out of Bonnie?”

 

“Not entirely sure,” Thomas said. “Will, how do you do that?”

 

“I don't really know either,” Will admitted. “It's sort of like… pulling someone out from behind a sheet. I just… reach through and grab their arms, then I pull.”

 

“Huh.” Thomas shrugged. “Well, in general we're a bit stronger than them.”

 

“Because you're older?” 

 

“Yes and no,” Thomas said slowly. “Age usually doesn't count, except in years after you died. We're stronger because… we have more experience in stuff? I think that's how it works. Like, Will had more experience in actual one on one combat when he died, so he's better at fighting in spirit form. I did a lot of robotics when I was alive, so that somehow carried over as being better with handling Freddy.”

 

Mike frowned. “What's this about age?”

 

Thomas nodded slowly. “It's sort of… I'm not sure how to put it. But, basically… it's the same as when you're alive, you know? A twenty year old is usually stronger than a four year old, right? So someone who's been a spirit for twenty years is stronger than someone who's been a spirit for four. Except, we don't get weaker. Our bodies don't degrade and die like living beings, so a two hundred year old spirit would be way stronger than a twenty year old.”

 

Will hummed softly. “I met some spirits, about… oh, nine years ago? They were… sixty, seventy… something like that. They were way more powerful than we are now; they were old enough to actively influence the world on their own, without any sort of physical body. Although, now that I think about it, they may have been possessing their own corpses. Don't think so, though.”

 

Thomas frowned. “Actually, Mari said that the reason we can't touch anything outside of the suits is _because_ we're connected to them. Something about only getting one connection to the physical world?”

 

“Well, that's no fun. Although, getting your ass kicked by ghosts… Would that be more or less scary than getting your ass kicked by robots? Mike?”

 

Mike considered it. “Hard to tell. Would I be able to touch you if you weren't connected to the suits? Because, no offense, but I think it would be a lot easier to hold off five kids than five giant robots.”

 

“That's true.” Benny stirred slightly, and Will leaned forward a little. “You okay, Benny?”

 

“Uh-huh.” Benny stared up at Mike in confusion. “How did you do that?”

 

Thomas frowned at the three of them. “That's a good point, actually. Mike, what exactly _did_ you do?” 

 

A part of Mike didn't want to answer. Thomas looked more like the robot-possessing homicidal ghost that he was than Mike had ever seen him. Luckily, Will stepped in. “Calm down, Tom, he's not ripping our minds to shreds or anything.”

 

“Then-”

 

Will grinned. “It turns out that when one of us has a flashback, we're basically broadcasting our horrible, traumatic deaths! Mike picks up on it when he touches us.”

 

Thomas stared, gaze shifting between the three of them. “…And this… helps?” he asked eventually. 

 

Benny nodded, sitting up. “It's sort of like… someone else knowing what happened makes it easier to let go of.”

 

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “Having someone present and watching… makes it more real, you know? Helps clarify that this is something that happened. Which doesn't sound like a good thing, but… it makes it easier to let go. Like… once we can accept our own death… we don't need to relive the whole thing.”

 

Mike frowned. “But I did see the whole thing. Well, your parts of it.”

 

Benny shook his head. “Usually we go through the aftermath, too,” he explained. “When we first woke up…”

 

Thomas shuddered. “That wasn't pretty,” he commented. “I swear security was more aware of us panicking as ghosts than they were of us dying horribly in the safe room.”

 

“Hang on, back up a second,” Mike said. “Safe room?”

 

Thomas nodded. “No cameras, the robots can't enter it, and it's been completely sealed up for the past six years. Nothing to do with us; that's where they put the hybrid suits.”

 

Mike opened his mouth, then sighed and closed it again. “Let's head back to the office,” he suggested. “On the way, you can explain what these hybrid suits are.”

 

“Right.” Thomas knelt down next to the other two. “Alright, Benny, hop on.”

 

“I could carry him,” Will grumbled, but helped the younger boy climb onto Thomas's back. “Come now, Tom, I know you want to play Prince Charming, but I'm afraid you'll have to find another princess. One who can't kick your ass.”

 

“Maybe I want a princess who can kick my ass,” Thomas retorted. He turned to Mike. “The hybrid suits… I think they called them… springlock suits, actually. Alex actually has one of them. They're… Well, we call them Golden Freddy and Golden Bonnie, but really it's Spring Fredbear and Spring Bonnie.”

 

“Fredbear was the mascot before Freddy,” Will added, standing and heading off down the hall. “The suits were tossed in '87. There was an…” He winced. “…incident. Multiple simultaneous springlock failures. It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, y'know? Although… not for very long.”

 

“So that was the Bite of '87,” Mike realised. “What happened? Will, you told me a little, but…”

 

“Prank,” Thomas said shortly when Will failed to respond. “One kid and a bunch of his friends grabbed his little brother, took him up to the stage. His head got caught in Fredbear's mouth. He was wriggling and crying… It loosened the springlocks… Well. Needless to say, the suits were sealed away immediately.”

 

“Shit,” Mike whispered. 

 

“Swear jar,” Benny said abruptly. 

 

“Hm?”

 

The kid shrugged. “'S something Will says. Even though we don't have money. Or a jar.”

 

Will chuckled. “I do say that, sometimes,” he admitted. “Hey, Mike, think you could get us a jar or something?”

 

“Maybe,” Mike said, amused. The atmosphere in the hallway had lightened dramatically, and looking at Benny's faint smile, he wouldn't be surprised if that had been the point. “So, these springlock suits… What made them so special?”

 

Will turned to Thomas. “Well, Mister Robotics Expert?”

 

Thomas frowned. “Basically, they have two modes. They can walk around like the other robots, with endoskeletons, or the endoskeleton can be wound back with a hand crank. The springlocks hold it in place, leaving room for a person to climb in.” He shook his head. “In principle, anyway; in practice, the locks were pretty sensitive. Even breathing on them was enough to loosen them.”

 

“All this is supposed to be a secret, by the way,” Will added. “But, you know… We were in the building when the safe room was sealed. Overheard people chatting.”

 

“So you're eavesdroppers as well as ghosts,” Mike said. 

 

“No we're not!” Benny said. “It's not our fault they were talking where we could hear them.”

 

“Which may have been inside the safe room,” Will admitted cheerily. 

 

“He didn't need to know that,” Thomas said, stopping in front of the office doorway. “It's nearly six, Mike; you gonna clock out?”

 

“Yeah, I probably should.” He sighed. “Say goodbye to the others for me?”

 

“On it.” Will slipped into the office. “See you tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah, of course.” Mike ran a hand through his hair. “I'll try to find you those names,” he said. “I can't promise anything, but…”

 

“That's fine,” Thomas assured him. “Just try.”

 

“That I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, over the past few days I started reading Mortal Instruments, got into Supernatural, and watched the first few episodes of season 4 of Teen Wolf.  
> If I don't update for a while, I'm crying in a corner somewhere.


	9. Chapter 9

 

_Week Two_

_First Night_

 

Mike dropped the toolbox onto the desk. “Guys?”

 

Clara poked her head in. “Hi, Mike! The boys said to tell you they'll be here in a little bit.”

 

The night guard nodded in understanding. “Try and get them to hurry up, will you?”

 

“Okay, I'll tell them!” The girl ducked out of the room again. 

 

Mike leaned back in his chair. “…Hey, Puppet?” he called. 

 

“Yes.”

 

He nearly threw himself from the chair. The puppet had somehow managed to creep in and stand against the wall, far taller than he had any right to be and barely balanced on his thin feet. “Holy-! Don't just _appear_  like that! Make some noise, will you?”

 

“Apologies.” The puppet crouched down, staring up at Mike. “Was there something you wanted to know?”

 

“Yeah, actually. Uh, the kids…” he scratched the back of his neck. “How did they… That is… how did they end up here, anyway? Shouldn't they have… moved on to the next world, or… something?”

 

The puppet did something close to a shrug. “I interfered. They wanted revenge against their murderer. So did I. As such, I gave them an opportunity.”

 

“…You turned a bunch of kids into homicidal machines?”

 

“Only a little bit,” came Will's voice from the doorway. “Mari, are you gonna tell him the whole story, or…?”

 

“Sit down, Will,” the puppet said. “Mr. Schmidt, were you able to find anything new?”

 

Mike nodded slowly. “Maybe. Will, where are the others?”

 

“Coming,” Will assured him. “Tom sent me on ahead to let you know. Y'know, seeing as I'm apparently the only one who's worked out how to _r_ _un_  in six years.”

 

“Hey, we can run,” Thomas said lightly, trotting into the office. “What did you find, Mike?”

 

Mike ran a hand through his hair. “I talked to Jeremy this morning. He said… the day guard six years ago was named Frank Elson. Sound familiar?”

 

“F.E,” Will muttered. “Could Jeremy describe him at all?”

 

Mike frowned. “Uh… Dark hair with purple streaks, blue eyes, tanned.”

 

Thomas shook his head. “That's… It's definitely…”

 

“That's him,” Alex said. “That's definitely him.”

 

“Sounds right,” Will said. “Uh… I think the guy had a tattoo, some sort of marking… Dark, for sure. It was just visible at his shirt collar. A… spiral type thing, I saw it. Did Jeremy mention it?”

 

“Yeah… Yeah, he did say something about a tattoo.” Mike nodded. “That him?”

 

“Probably,” Thomas said. “If you could find a picture or something…”

 

“Actually…” Mike pulled a tube of papers out of his jacket. “I thought you might ask that, so I managed to grab a copy of his file. Very much against the rules, which is why I'm really glad the office has no cameras. There's a picture…” He flipped through the file. “Ah. Here.”

 

The kids recoiled from the desk. “Yeah,” Will said softly. “That's… definitely him. Can… Can you put that away now?”

 

Clara was trembling. “He killed us…” she whispered. “He killed us, he killed us…”

 

The puppet stirred, looking away from the picture. “Oh, dear,” he murmured. “Children, I believe you should leave now.”

 

Thomas glanced over at Clara. “Yes, right. Alex, Benny, wait in the hall. Will, go with them, keep an eye on things.”

 

“Right.” Will quickly ushered the other two out the door. 

 

“Shut the door,” Thomas suggested, kneeling next to Clara. “We don't need the others seeing this. Easy now, Clara,” he added, turning to the girl. “It's okay. He's not here. That was a long time ago. Nothing to be afraid of.”

 

The puppet edged over as well. “Now, now,” he said awkwardly. “Let's not worry the others, shall we?”

 

Clara screamed. It was the same chilling sound that Will and Benny had made before, and the puppet threw his hands over what passed for his ears. “Oh dear,” he said. “Perhaps I should have gone with the children, rather than Will.”

 

“Yeah, perhaps,” Thomas said, running a hand through Clara's hair. “Too late now. Mike, do the thing.”

 

“'The thing'?” the puppet repeated. “What 'thing'?”

 

Mike didn't respond, staring at the little girl. Her throat had been cut like Benny's, and there were scratches on her face. Thomas cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, Mike? The thing?”

 

Mike shook his head, trying to focus. “Right. Yes.” He reached out to touch Clara's hand, and-

 

_-and Thomas collapsed in a heap at her feet, gashes covering his chest, face twisted in agony-_

 

_-she screamed again, louder, praying that someone would hear her this time, someone would come-_

 

_-the others yelled warnings that she barely heard-_

 

_-a hand reached out to grab her, threw her into the wall, her face scraping against the rough surface-_

 

_-the flash of metal and **purple**  crossed her gaze, and a searing pain filled her throat-_

 

Mike rolled over, one hand rising instinctively to his throat. “Shit,” he muttered. “I really hate doing that.”

 

“Can't blame you,” Thomas said. “Reliving my own death is bad enough…”

 

Clara was stretched out on the floor, eyes closed. The injuries had vanished, at least. “Well, it's over now,” Mike said. 

 

“Knock knock?” Will called through the door.   “Everything all right in there?”

 

“Yeah, it's fine,” Thomas called back. “Hang on, we'll get the door for you.”

 

The puppet stood and wandered over to the door, hitting the button. “Come in, then.”

 

Will strolled in, hands in his pockets and looking perfectly calm. “So? How bad was it?”

 

Thomas sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Pretty bad,” he said. “But Mike did the thing, so it's fine now.”

 

“'The thing'?” Will asked, amused. “Is that what we're calling it now?”

 

“You have a better idea?”

 

“No, no, 'the thing' works. It's just… not very descriptive.” Will flopped down next to Clara. “So now what? We know who we're looking for… How do we get him back here?”

 

Mike frowned thoughtfully. “Well… This weekend the restaurant is closed down, staff holiday or something. If we could get a rumour going that suggests you're still alive…”

 

“Maybe only that I'm alive,” Thomas said. “The others were… pretty comprehensively slaughtered.”

 

Will nodded. “He was very efficient. But we could suggest that the robots are haunted. If we can make it believable…”

 

“…Perhaps we could lure him into a trap,” the puppet said. “But even if we get him here, how do you intend to kill him? We can't exactly walk over and stab him.”

 

“I could do it,” Mike said, “but I'd rather not get charged with murder, so… The cameras will be off, so we don't have to worry about that, but still. It would be risky.”

 

Will glanced over at Mike. “…Can you figure out how well sealed the safe room is?”

 

“The safe room?” Mike repeated. “Yeah, if you show me where it is. I can turn off the power for a bit so no one sees what I'm doing, too. Why?”

 

“The suits,” Thomas said. “If we can find a way to get him into the suits… Will, that's brilliant!”

 

“Thank you, thank you.” Will bowed, grinning. “I'd only figured that it'd be a good place to kill him, seeing as apparently murdering people in there is foolproof, but your idea's even better!”

 

“The suits?” Mike asked. “What about them?”

 

Thomas smirked. “The springlocks are really sensitive, remember? And the roof is leaking a lot right now, so it's probably really wet in the safe room. The locks will be loosened…”

 

“And if he knows it's us, I'm sure he'll want to gloat, or get scared enough to want to hide…” Will added. 

 

“…so he'll climb into one of the suits and set off the locks!” Thomas finished triumphantly. 

 

“A suitably agonising demise,” Will agreed. The boys high-fived. 

 

“…I don't think we should be this happy about killing someone,” Clara said. “Should we?”

 

“Probably not,” Benny agreed. 

 

Alex nodded. “But we're dead, so the rules are a little different, I think.”

 

Mari pressed a hand to his cheek. “Will, Thomas, calm down,” he said. “This discussion is macabre enough without the two of you enjoying it.”

 

The older two settled down again at his words, leaning against the desk. “So,” Will said. “Anyone know a good way to get word to him?”

 

Mike sighed. “Ah. Right. Uh, no, not really.”

 

Mari tapped his forehead. “Don't you know any other guards? Anyone who might have some way of contacting Mr. Elson?”

 

“I… suppose I could ask Jeremy if he knows,” Mike allowed. “I'm pretty new, though, so he might not tell me even if he does.”

 

“Just make it sound like something the staff from six years ago would want to know,” Will said. “At least, something our good friend Mr. Murderous Psycho would want to hear. Like, oh, maybe you… thought you heard something, and you want to see if any of the older staff have heard the same thing? Something that would seem normal to anyone else…”

 

“Or evidence!” Thomas suggested. “Like… if you say you saw… blood, or some of our clothes, or something…”

 

“Blood would be suspicious to anyone,” Mari pointed out. “Perhaps… scraps of cloth on one of the animatronics? You could ask if that has happened before.”

 

“That… might work,” Mike said slowly. “It's a long shot, but it might work.”

 

“There've always been rumours about this place being haunted,” Will said thoughtfully. “Even before we died. It shouldn't take much. I hope.”

 

Mike nodded. “Then I'll talk to Jeremy in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter feels so short, but I wanted to get it posted quickly. I'm gonna be out of the country without internet for the next month, so I won't be able to post anything else until I get back.
> 
> EDIT: Haha, I completely forgot I format this. Oops.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! Sorry, got distracted by the glory that is Voltron Legendary Defender.

_Week Two_

_Second Night_

 

Mike threw himself into his chair, dropping a stack of papers onto the desk. “Guys!” he called. “Guys, get in here!”

 

Will stuck his head through the door. “Ah. About that. You mind taking a break for a minute?” He winced. “Sorry, that wasn't the best wording. I mean… I know we haven't done anything yet. But, ah… we have a small problem.”

 

“What sort of small problem?” Mike stood up. Whatever it was, he had a suspicion that it was a little more serious than Will was trying to pretend it was. 

 

“Oh, a… small one. You know how it is around here.” Mike gave him a look and he sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, alright, it's… Well. I guess now that we're so close and you've started to help us work through the trauma of dying horribly, the frequency is picking up? I don't know, it's like the episodes think we're running out of time or something.”

 

“Alex or Thomas?” Mike asked as Will led the way into the hall. 

 

“Alex,” Will said. “Tom is… panicking a little, so I'm glad you got here when you did. Mari's no good with emotions and shit, and I can't keep him–Tom, that is–calm and watch the kids at the same time…”

 

“Ah. So what did you do?”

 

Will sighed. “Well, Tom's with Alex and Mari's got the kids in the other party room. When I heard you yelling I promised Tom I'd bring you right away, but we'd better hurry. When I left, he was slowly working himself into an episode of his own.”

 

“Sheesh,” Mike said. “Is it always this crazy around here?”

 

“Not usually, no.” Will skidded to a halt beside the party room, reaching out to stop Mike. A cold breeze blew through his chest as Will's arm passed through him and he shuddered. “Oh, sorry. They're in here.”

 

He didn't really need to say it. Now that they had stopped, Mike could hear a pained wailing from inside the room and Thomas murmuring something softly. Will beckoned Mike forward as he walked in himself, and the night guard followed hesitantly. At least by then he had a pretty good idea of what to expect. 

 

Alex was lying on the floor in a cloud of red smoke with Thomas's arm around his shoulders. It looked like something much smaller than a cleaver had been stabbed deep into his throat and pulled roughly to the side, opening his throat up in a jagged line. Will knelt beside Thomas and rested a hand on his friend's shoulder, frowning at Alex in concern. “Mike,” he said quietly, gaze shifting from Alex to Thomas and back again, “I think you'd better hurry up.”

 

“On it.” Mike knelt as well, and reached out to touch Alex's arm-

 

_-and Benny's eyes slid away from him as he fell and he was dead, wasn't he, they were all as good as dead-_

 

_-he man turned to him with a dark grin and raised the cleaver-_

 

_-he lashed out instinctively and caught him in the knee, watched as he stumbled, dropping the cleaver as he caught himself on the wall, and silently thanked Will for those few brief lessons in hand to hand-_

 

_-the man snarled at him, leaving the cleaver where it lay and instead reaching out and pinning him against the wall by the throat-_

 

_-he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, everything was going dark around the edges and the man dropped him and turned to where Will had fallen in a heap after the man had stabbed him-_

 

_-he didn't want to look but he did anyway as the man yanked the butterfly knife out of Will's eye–oh God–and turned back to him with the little blade gleaming and dripping-_

 

_-he was kicked onto his back and all he saw was **purple**  as the knife dug deep into his throat and dragged across-_

 

_-and then there was nothing at all._

 

Mike's eyes flew open and he dragged himself upright, shaking his head to clear it. “Shit,” he muttered. 

 

“Alright, then?” Will asked distractedly. 

 

“Yeah,” Mike said. He glanced over at his friend. He frowned. “Uh, Will.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Will rolled his eyes and ran his free hand through his hair. His ponytail had come loose and his hair was hanging around his face and in his eyes. He looked surprisingly disheveled for someone who had just been sitting there trying to keep his friend from panicking. Alex was lying across his lap and Thomas had at some point draped himself across his friend's shoulders. Will shrugged as best he could without disturbing him, absently running a hand through the older boy's hair. “He gets like this sometimes. Best I can do is stick around and try to keep him grounded. He worries about Alex, and times like these… Well, they're difficult for him. Cousins, y'know?”

 

“And here I thought _you_  fussed sometimes,” Mike said. 

 

Will chuckled. “Well of course I'm going to fuss,” he said. “Even if I couldn't save their lives, I can at least make their afterlives as comfortable as possible, can't I?”

 

“Will, there wasn't anything-”

 

“Anything I could've done, yes, I know.” Will waved his hand airily. “Tom got me past that one years ago. It's fine. I know I tried my best, even though I wish I could've done more- But that's not the point. Point is, I want to help them, y'know? Any way I can. Tom's the same way, really. He hates seeing any of them- That is, he hates seeing _anyone_  suffer, and when it's Alex and it's this bad… Well. If I wasn't there to keep him calm you would've had to deal with two episodes at once.”

 

“Are you done expositing now, Will?” Thomas asked, lifting his head off Will's shoulder. “Or should I just grab Alex and head to the office?”

 

Will smiled at him warmly. “Nah, I'm done,” he said. “Enjoy your little vacation?”

 

Thomas shook his head. “No fun taking vacations without you,” he said. “We've been over this, Will.”

 

“Aw, aren't you sweet.” Will shoved Thomas gently. “Alright, up we get. If I still had blood flow, my legs would probably be going numb by now.” He slid his arms under Alex and stood, stumbling awkwardly as he adjusted to the weight. “Okay, so maybe my legs actually did go numb.”

 

Thomas laughed and wrapped an arm around his friend's waist. “All that complaining about how you're not a princess, and here you are needing Prince Charming to keep you from collapsing. I'm shocked.”

 

“Oh shut up,” Will muttered, his cheeks going almost as red as his hair. “This is your fault.” He quickly pulled an elastic band out of his coat pocket and set about tying his hair up again. 

 

“Is not.” Thomas turned to Mike. “Uh, sorry about all that. Um, my memory's a bit foggy, but you wanted to talk to us about something?”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Mike stood as well. “Uh, in the office. I found a couple things that might help us.”

 

“The kids and Mari are probably already there,” Will said. He nudged Alex, and the boy stirred. 

 

“Mm… Mom?” the boy asked sleepily. Thomas snickered. 

 

Will coughed. “Uh, no. Sorry to disappoint.”

 

Alex opened his eyes and blushed. “…Oh. Hi, Will. Uh, sorry.”

 

“It's fine.” Will set him back on his feet. “Uh, office. Come on.”

 

“And we shall never speak of this again?” Thomas asked innocently. 

 

“Yes, precisely,” Will replied, leading the party back to the office. 

 

Thomas dropped back beside Mike. “It's the hair,” he confided. “If one of us is going to be mistaken for someone's mom, it's Will. We always get a good laugh out of it.”

 

Mike chuckled, strolling into the office behind Alex. Just as Will had said, the others were already there. Will and Alex had taken their usual places. “Alright, guys. I think I might know how we can do this.”

 

“How would that be?” Mari asked, leaning over the papers on the desk. “Also, I fail to see how blueprints of the building and animatronics will help us.”

 

“Blueprints?” Thomas glanced over the papers, eyes wide. “How do you keep _getting_  this stuff? Shouldn't it be classified or something?”

 

“Security is amazingly lax,” Mike said. “Anyway, I was thinking. The robots are creepy, but if our murderer is as tough as he seems, we might not be able to stop him with them.”

 

“So?” Benny asked. “What, you mean we can't get him after all?”

 

“No, that's not it.” Mike tapped the top blueprint. “Mari, you said their spirits are tied to the robots?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Mike grinned. “What happens if the robots are dismantled?”

 

“Oh,” Will said. “Oh! That's actually a really good question!”

 

Mari tapped his chin. “Their spirits would be free to move as they wished. They would no longer be tied to this building, for one thing; they could go anywhere in this world. They could possibly become more powerful, in fact.”

 

“Great.” Mike smirked at them. “Alright, then I think I might have a plan.”

 

Thomas glanced around at the others. “What do you need us to do?”

 

“I told Jeremy our little story. Fabric scraps, strange noises, the whole nine yards. He said he'd ask every previous night guard, and when I suggested the place might be haunted he specifically said he'd talk to Frank Elson. So he's almost certainly going to show up, assuming you guys are right about him. That gives us only three days to finish planning, so we'll have to move quickly. Do you guys know a place he'll definitely going to stop by when he gets here?”

 

“Backstage?” Benny suggested. “There's lots of big, heavy things he could use as weapons.”

 

“If he's looking for a weapon, the kitchen is more likely,” Clara said. “That's where all the knives and things are.”

 

“The office,” Will said quietly. 

 

“There aren't any weapons in the office,” Alex said, confused. 

 

“There's something more important,” Will replied. He leaned over the desk and tapped the monitor. 

 

“The cameras?” Thomas asked. “Oh, the cameras! Of course! He must know about the robots going haywire, since he's friends with Fritz. If he's going to be wandering around looking for us, he'll want the monitor so he can keep an eye on the robots!”

 

Will nodded. “So he has to come to the office to get it,” he finished. “There's no other way to monitor the cameras. He might go backstage or to the kitchen, but I'm a hundred percent sure he'll stop by the office.”

 

“How do you know that?” Mari asked. “There could be another one.”

 

Will shook his head. “Since Foxy got deactivated I've mostly followed the day guard around. He always stops by the office first to grab the monitor so he can keep an eye on the cameras while he's patrolling. No way he'd carry that thing around if there was anything more portable, so this monitor is either the best option or the only one.”

 

“So he will almost certainly come to the office,” Mari said. “Very well. What is the plan?”

 

“I'll leave the blueprints here on Friday, where anyone can see them,” Mike explained. “When our murderer shows up, he'll find a nice pile of blueprints telling him exactly how to shut down and dismantle all the robots.”

 

“…So you're gonna help him dismantle us,” Thomas said. 

 

“It makes sense,” Mari said. “He may not be frightened by five animatronics-”

 

“Four,” Alex interrupted. “I'm not properly connected to Golden Freddy.”

 

“…As I was saying, he may not be frightened by _four_  animatronics, but he will almost certainly be frightened by the spirits of his victims returning to haunt him.”

 

“And if Mari's wrong?” Thomas asked. “If something goes wrong and being separated from the robots does something awful? Did any of you think of that? I mean, I hate to put a downer on things, but still…”

 

“Seriously?” Will sighed. “We're this close, and you wanna back out now. Don't be a pussy, Tom.”

 

“Oh, boy,” Alex muttered. “Here they go…” The other kids all simultaneously backed up until they gathered around the door. 

 

“So now looking at the cons as well as the pros makes me a coward?” Thomas asked coolly. “At least I'm actually thinking things through.”

 

“And what's that supposed to mean?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” Thomas said, voice dripping with false innocence. “Although the fact that you automatically _think_  it means something is pretty telling, don't you think?”

 

Mari stepped forward. “Calm down, boys,” he said awkwardly. “Let's just sit down and talk this out like civilized people.”

 

Will held up a hand. “No, no. I wanna hear this. Come on then, Tommy boy. Say it, I know you want to.”

 

“All I'm saying is that making an impulsive decision based on a stupidly risky idea–no offense, Mike–is idiotic!” Thomas said. “You're always doing this. Why don't you actually think something through for once?!”

 

“Well, why don't you _stop_  thinking?!” Will snapped back. “It's a good plan, but you- Every time someone has a good idea you rip it apart because of one tiny flaw!”

 

“Is this about that time we went to Bangladesh?”

 

“Is it- _No_ , it's not about Bangladesh! Even though that was totally your fault, but that's not the point.” Will shook his head. “Stop distracting me when I'm mad at you!”

 

“Not my fault you're so easily distracted! And for the record, it was your idea, and it was terrible,” Thomas retorted. 

 

“Guys, can we focus?” Mike asked. They both turned withering glares on him and he raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. But we don't have much time.”

 

“Yeah, Tom, stop wasting time,” Will said sweetly. 

 

“You-” Thomas groaned. “Ugh, you always do this! Whenever I try to do something important, you're just making a mess of it!”

 

“Guys…” Mike said. 

 

“Oh, _I_  make a mess of things?” Will asked, ignoring him completely. “You're the one who's always interfering in my business.”

 

“Because if I didn't 'interfere', as you put it, you'd get yourself _killed_!”

 

“Not very good at your job then, are you?!” Will yelled. Then he stopped, eyes widening as he pressed a hand over his mouth. “Shit. Shit, _fuck_ , sorry, Tom, I didn't mean to-”

 

Thomas raised a hand to cut him off. “No, no, it's fine. I mean, it's not like I possibly doomed us all by throwing myself at someone who was obviously armed and willing to hurt us, thereby getting myself–and maybe everyone else–murdered horribly. Oh, wait. That was you.”

 

“Thomas!” Mari snapped. “That's too far!”

 

Will waved him off, blinking rapidly. “No, no, that's alright,” he said tightly. “Well, _Thomas_ , since our plan's obviously so terrible, have fun coming up with another one.” With that said, he turned sharply on his heel and stormed out. 

 

“Thomas,” Mike said sharply, “go apologise, now.”

 

Thomas just stared at him for a long moment, eyes wide. He'd gone very pale. “I- Right,” he mumbled. “Shit, I didn't mean to- I'll just-” He took off after Will without another word. 

 

“…Well,” Clara said eventually, staring after the older two. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I think that was an unmitigated disaster.”

 

“What the hell just happened?” Mike asked. “They never fight. Not seriously, anyway.”

 

“That is precisely why it is so bad when they do,” Mari explained. “They've been due a big fight for a while now, and with everything else that's been happening it was exaggerated beyond all sense.”

 

Benny nodded sagely. “It's like a tempest in a teapot. They're really, really close, but there are still little things about each other that bug them. Eventually it just builds up and one of them snaps. Usually it's Will who starts it, but Thomas gets way harsher, because he's really good at figuring out what'll hurt more and he doesn't really filter it when he's mad. We just try to stay out of the way when they get started and it's all blown over by the next day. It'll probably be settled by tomorrow morning.”

 

“They've never gone so far before, though…” Alex pointed out nervously. “I mean, mentioning Bangladesh is one thing–” he shuddered as though he'd brought up a particularly horrible event, “–but they never, ever talk about us dying.”

 

Clara nodded. “I mean, we all know they blame themselves, but I never thought they blamed each other.”

 

“I don't think they do,” Mike said. “They were both mad and latched onto something they knew would hurt. If they meant it they wouldn't have looked so upset at what they said.”

 

“So what do we do?” Clara asked. 

 

Just then the clock chimed six. Mike sighed. “Well, for now I need to sleep, and you guys have work to do. Benny, Clara, make sure Thomas keeps working today. Alex, Mari, try to calm Will down. If I know him at all it'll be tough.”

 

“Can't we get them to talk?” Clara suggested. 

 

Alex shook his head. “With those two? They'll just blow up again. For now we can only hope it's all blown over by tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this one that much. However, I figured it was long past time I got back to this story. Hopefully next chapter will be better. And, uh, faster.
> 
> Oh! I forgot to mention this last time, but [coreplant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/coreplant/pseuds/coreplant) made sims for this fic! I'm so happy. Go check them out [here](http://coreplant.tumblr.com/post/147208438227/more-sims-from-a-fanfic-and-a-test-on-just-what-i).


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